Strike the Cord
by kkolmakov
Summary: Sequel to "Touch the Nerve". Modern AU. Wren has a surprisingly great boyfriend, considering his previous promiscuous ways, and seems rather happy. The last thing she needs is his dark and complicated uncle, John Thorington to mess with her life again. Or does she? *No Infringement Intended*
1. Chapter 1

"I'll be honest with you, I'm super nervous," you are sitting on Phil's bed and watch him packing a bag. "Why?" A white stick of a lolly is bobbing when he talks. Seriously, the straight forward case of oral fiction. There is always something in his mouth. In the last two weeks it is mostly you.

"Because I'm meeting your mom in a slightly different capacity now..." "Love, she adores you!" "Will she still adore me now that I'm shagging her son?" He throws the lolly on his desk, slides on the bed near you and pulls you on his lap. "She most definitely will. And how do I know it?.." He dips his nose in your hair and kissed your neck. "And how do you know that?" You are smiling.

"Because she's been pushing this idea for years." He is nibbling on your earlobe now. You twist out of his grasp and peer at him. "What?" His eyes are laughing. "I might have been slightly pissed once and confessed that I was pining over you." You are staring at him in disbelief. "Alright, I was completely bladdered. It was right after your thing with Killian." "I did not have a thing with Killian." "I know it now!.."

You are snogging on his bed, and he is reaching for the buttons on your shirt. There is a knock at the door. You hear Killian's voice, "Hey, lovebirds, our ride is here." "Our ride?" You are slightly dazed. "Yeah, about that..." Phil is staring at the ceiling. "Uncle is driving us today." Sod it.

**XXX**

John is leaning on his Land Rover, while Killlian is shoving your bags at the back. His large body is clad in a pair of black denim and a red jumper. The luscious mane is in a loose ponytail on his back. You haven't seen him since the Yamataki episode, when you accused him of favouritism and trying to pay you with the grant money for your silence regarding your hook up, then you had a fight and you refused to become his mistress, after practically shagging him in an empty office on a desk. Have you forgotten anything? Right, you did bloody tell your wonderful boyfriend about your first transgression with Dr. Dark and Sexy in the woods, that sounds bloody D.H. Lawrence, you engaged in heavy petting in a tent, for fuck sake, but forgot to mention everything besides that.

"Uncle," Phil smiles sunnily. "Philip," oh look at that perfect impersonation of Grumpy the Dwarf from "Snow White". "Miss Leary," why does it feel like you just received a full body check under his scrutinizing gaze? Can he guess that you two shagged three times this morning, once against a shower wall? Probably not, since the bruises on your back are covered with a tee. And the lovebite on your neck with a scarf. And the other one with your hair. Hopefully.

"Dr. Thorington," Phil gives you a sideways glance. Yes, Phil, that is how I talk to your uncle, like nothing happened. Nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, repeat until the message settles. You have not under any circumstances dreamt of him three times in the last two weeks that you are dating his nephew. How did your life turn into this bloody mess, Wren?

**XXX**

The engine purrs back to life, almost inaudible from inside, and Charles Aznavour's sensual voice pours out of the radio. Really? Wow… That's actually your favourite cover version of "Ne Me Quitte Pas". Ignore it, ignore it, Wren.

The ride is surprisingly comfortable. You are nested in Phil's arms at the back, Killian is reading a book at the front seat. Dr. Grumpy, and yes, that is his new official moniker, is concentrating on the road. You close your eyes and bury your face in Phil's clavicles. The cashmere of his jumper tickles your nose and the so familiar smell of his skin and Terre d'Hermes lull your anxiety. You are doing fine, Wren. You are doing fine.

**XXX**

Deadre meets you outside, at the door and immediately you are wrapped in her warm embrace. "Wren, my dearest, it is so nice of you to come! Finally!" She kisses your cheek and your heart once again clenches from acute affection for this woman. She is tall like her brother, the same black and silver wavy mane, twisted in a messy bun. A long nose and her younger son' brown eyes. "Hello, Mrs. Durinson."

She grabs your hand and pulls you inside. "Aren't we getting a hello, mom?" Killian's cheeky voice rings behind. "We are old news now," John's low voice rumbles. She waves her hand dismissively, "I've had too much testosterone around me for way too many years. It's time for a proper human interaction." You hear Phil's throaty chuckle behind you.

She is leading you in a sitting room, and you obediently follow. You would follow her across the Bridge of Khazad-dum if she asked. Yes, you do love this book, what? You have nostalgic feelings from your childhood towards it.

You sit down in the offered armchair, and she gracefully sinks in hers, across a teatray from you. Bugger, the tea. How you hate the posh cups and saucers, and the sandwiches! You always feel like a bloody clumsy clot around them.

You hear the three men stomp through the doors, bickering, dropping bags and cursing, though rather demurely. Phil peeks in the room and steals a biscuit from a plate. "Get out!" he flashes a beaming grin and scurries away. She is laughing. "Have you noticed that he cannot ever stop chewing!" You laugh. "I have." "where does all this food and sugar go? He has a metabolism of a thirteen year old." And he engages in a lot of physical activity, nudge-nudge. You demurely pick up a cup.

"Mom," Killian's whiny voice comes from upstairs. "Oh dear, now what?" She gets up. "Stay, Wren, have some tea. I bet they haven't thought of feeding you." "Mom! I can't figure out the rooms!" Killian is practically yelling. "What a clot," she mumbles under her breath. "I put you with Philip in his bedroom." You choke on your tea. She is giving you a knowing smile. And then she kisses the top of your head. "He rang me up, dear. And I told him how endlessly happy I am for you two." She disappears from the room, and you are staring at the swirls of milk in your teacup. Blimey...


	2. Chapter 2

The housekeeper is apparently sick, so you and Killian are setting the table. Which is totally fine with you, since you are not at all comfortable with the domestic help. You really don't feel than an elderly lady with manners better than yours should be serving you dinner.

Killian is placing the cutlery on the table. "Listen, Wren, I have a favour to ask." "Sure thing." "I mean I would feel less awkward to ask Phil, but he'll just tell me to bugger off. Anyways… Can you guys not… you know… tonight?" He gives you his famous puppy eyes. "I mean the walls between our rooms are made of bloody paper." You snort. "Sure, Killian."

"Mom and Uncle will be fine, they are in a different wing, but I'm right there… I mean I'm all for giving you space, and thank you for texting me in advance, by the way. Very considerate of you. Unlike my wanker of a brother." "I've lived with Thea for four years, Killian, I know how it sounds from outside, when you are not actually participating in it." "Yeah," there is obvious disgust on his face, and then he blanches, "I mean not that I'm listening!" You laugh out loud. "It's just you guys are at it like twenty four seven, seriously…"

You are snickering and putting plates around the table. "By the way, Killian, where do you go when we so rudely occupy the flat?" Is that a blush?! Interesting. "You know, uni friends. The blokes from Med, and stuff..." "Uh-huh," you are feigning innocence. "A girl maybe?" "What? No! I mean sometimes some bird from a pub or something," he pulls what he thinks is a smile of a player on his face. Adorable naive pup. "Uh-huh", you hum again. He is a lousy liar.

**XXX**

At dinner the conversation is easy and light. Even Dr. Grumpy has a hint of smile on his lips, definitely happy to see his sister. She asks about your classes, scolds Killian for slacking in his studies, the topic of your grant predictably comes up. You tell about the meeting you had with Dr. Maya Caufield.

"She is Yamazaki's leading biochemist, you have a lot to learn from her," John announces in a neutral tone. You remember her more than friendly touching him during the signing of the grant contract. "She is brilliant, we had lunch together afterwards," you mumble staring at your potatoes. "I suggest you did not affiliate with her outside the work environment, Miss Leary." His tone is sharp and unpleasant, and Phil jerks his head up to look at him. "Is that the Maya Scaufield?.." Deadre starts. "Yes. And that is hardly a good topic for a dinner conversation." He takes a sip of his wine to hide the harsh line of his lips.

What a fuck just happened? You screw your eyes at Phil but he gives you an almost unnoticeable shrug. Hm… Dr. Scaufield was pleasant enough during your lunch, you had a polite discussion of your life at uni, exchanged some banalities, she recollected her uni days. Since you have no mutual acquaintances, her being as blue-blooded as it gets, the meal was short.

After this setback, you go back to chatting amicably with Deadre, John seemingly lost in his thoughts. He is moving his food on his plate without actually eating anything and just sips his wine. You really should stop monitoring his every bloody move, Wren. You lose interest in his grouchiness, and soon enough you are laughing at Phil's impersonation of Perkins.

"Oh, don't be cruel, Philly, Ronald is a wonderful person, if maybe a bit eccentric." "You are only defending him, mom," Killian's eyes are sparkling with mischief, "because he was writing you sappy love letters when you were fourteen." "A man who compared my eye to the gentle velvet of chocolate truffles cannot be a bad person," you laugh out loud and suddenly catch John staring at your mouth. His eyes are a few shades darker than usual.

It is so obvious that you shut your mouth with a clank of your teeth. Your first impulse is to check if Phil noticed. But he is absorbed in the conversation with his brother and mother, and you return your eyes on John. He has a scornful expression on his face, obviously having noticed your reaction. Your cheeks are starting to burn. Fucking tosser. You have nothing to feel guilty about. He is the one behaving inappropriately here.

**XXX**

After the dinner everyone moves to a big drawing room. John and Deandre quietly talk in their chairs by the fireplace, and you three on the other side of the room are sitting on the floor leaning over a table with Operation on it. Phil cocks up another "Water on the Knee". "I just don't understand! I'm a future surgeon. Bollocks!"

"Philip, watch your language," Deandre's tone is strict. "Sorry, mom." "There are other women present in the room, Philip," John's low voice is imposing. What? Oh, right. That was a bit too alpha male, wasn't it Dr. Grumpy? Would you like to pee on a corner of the sofa too? Phil looks at you and you give him a small supportive smile. "Sorry, Wren, I'll make it up to you later." Killian chokes on a crisp he is chewing. You think you can hear Deadre chuckle.

The buzzer goes off again. Killian guffaws. "You are just too much in a hurry!" "There is nothing wrong with my timing!" Phil clenches his teeth. Killian lowers his head to both of you. "What was that about that biochemist of yours at the dinner?" You look at Phil, who is angrily staring at the tweezers. "No idea, never heard of her before," he is grumbling something about messed up tweezers. You wonder if she is the one who arsed up the cogs in Dr. Grumpy's brain. You remember her stroking his suit jacket clad forearm. Don't know, don't care, Wren.

You take the tweezers from Phil's hands and successfully pull out "Wishbone." "How?!" Phil is only partially pretending to reel. He is very ambitious, let's face it. Part of his charm, success and motivation being the best aphrodisiac for you. It's Killian's turn, and the buzzer goes off.

Suddenly John leans over Phil's shoulder and takes the tweezers from the table. Like under hypnosis you watch long manicured fingers pick up the small tool, his large hand with a surprisingly elegant wrist and black hair on the forearm, his sleeves rolled up. He twirls the tool in his fingers and seemingly effortlessly pulls out "Bread Basket". He hands it to Phil. "Finesse and technique, Philip, or all you get is this annoying noise."

He leaves the room, and you see that the muscles in Phil's jaw are tense. You put your hand on his forearm, and he blinks and shakes it off. You smile to him and press your lips to his cheek.

"Common, kids, let's watch a film." Deadre is standing up from her chair. Killian jumps on his feet. "Just none of that independent Swedish films of yours, mom, please." He is whining. "The film was Norwegian, and no, I think this evening asks for a cartoon." Killian dashes out of the room. "Popcorn!" Deadre follows him to the kitchen.

And you pull Phil to your lips. You are kissing sitting on the carpet, his arms wrapped around your middle. And you don't give a rat's arse about Dr. Grumpy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: OK, I came up with a game for us, my lovelies! In your review leave the most absurd and preposterous prompt, a word or a whole phrase, and watch me squirm trying to fit it into the next chapter. Obviously, you can thus influence the storyline, say, if you put something like "But I love you, John!", but try not to be too cruel :) Have fun!**

You both change into PJs and brush teeth over the same sink. It feels bloody weird. Probably because before you never went to bed like that, it was mostly groping, biting, tearing clothes from each other type of going to bed. More falling than going actually. Then you would have to get up, probably take a shower, usually together, repeat the previous actions, sleepily tread to the bathroom, brush teeth and then fall into bed again almost unconscious and very, very content.

The bed is narrow but comfortable. You curl into him, pressing your back into his warm chest and stomach, and then he slides his palm under your top. "No, we can't," he is kissing behind your ear now. "Why?" "Because you brother is right behind that wall, and apparently the walls here are made of paper." "We will be very quiet," he whispers conspiratorially. His fingers brush the bottom of your breast. Oh, it always does it for you. You clench your teeth. You promised. "No, we won't, we never are."

He smirks. "You are a screamer, love, I'll give you that." "Me? It wasn't me who woke up your next door neighbour last week, and he came to ask if you were hurt." He hums and then presses his already full erection into your bum. "Really shouldn't have reminded me of that glorious night, love." He is biting your earlobe. "Still can't believe you said you never tried horse riding. Your thigh muscles are phenomenal." You are getting randy like hell, but you hold your positions. "I promised Killian, and I'm telling you I'm not having sex with you in this room." Oops, that's quite a freudian slip.

He jumps off the bed and stretches his hand to you. "Common, princess, I'll show you the world." "God, you are so tacky." "And yet it seems to work on you." You give him your hand and follow him. Let's face it, you are just as depraved as he is. And the thought of going at it in his parents' house turns you on like hell. Your knickers are drenched, and heat is throbbing in your lower stomach.

You go through the library, which is huge and definitely your most favourite room in the house, and he opens a door that you've never really noticed before. "What's in there?" "It's an old drawing room, no one uses it."

The furniture is covered with white cloth cases, the room is a bit dusty but does not feel unclean. He pulls a cover from a table and swiftly lifts you on it. You wrap your legs around his waist and tread your fingers in the golden waves. His lips are delicious, and you really, really started getting into the whole beard scratching thing after you started dating him. After a few moment of copping off, you rasp, "Did you get the condoms?" He fishes three out of his PJ pants pocket. "Aren't you an ambitious one?" He smirks and cocks a brow. His deft fingers are working on the buttons of your top. It's open and he lowers your back on the table. You stretch on it, and his lips close around your nipple. You arch your back and moan. Phil sinks on his knees in front of the table, and start pulling off your pants, kissing your thighs and knees.

The light turns on in the room, and you are staring in John's widened blazing eyes. He is standing in the doorway, one hand still frozen over the switch, a book in the other one. He blinks and swiftly spins away. Phil pulls you into his chest shielding you. Fucking bloody fuck! No, no, no, this did not just happen!

"I'm sorry, I heard some noise," John's voice is coarse. "I swear I didn't see anything. Much," he pauses, his shoulders tense, and then leaves the room.

Phil is frozen, and suddenly you start giggling. And can't seem to stop. He chuckles too in the beginning but then looks at you slightly worried. You really can't stop and bury your face into his tee. Your whole body is shaking. "Love, are you OK?" You are shaking your head. "No, of course not," it seems hiccups are going to start any moment. "It's like a bad film… I'm spread on that bloody table… And he said… he said he hasn't seen anything… Like he hasn't seen all that before..." You stop, your laughing gone as suddenly as it started. You feel tears running down your cheeks. Phil is standing with a lost look on his face, frowning.

You press yourself into him and sob. You don't know why you are crying. From the adrenaline from the lust going down, from the sudden shock of the light flooding the dark room, from the absolutely clear and obvious pain in John's face when he saw you.

Phil wraps you into your PJ top and rubs your shoulders. ""It's alright, love, it's alright..." The similarity of this and the morning after the forest is uncanny. You feel like you have been punched in your stomach. Repeatedly. Oh, fuck it! Admit it, Wren, your life is a fucking mess.

**XXX**

You come back to Phil's room, climb into bed together, and he spoons you. You close your eyes and pretend to go to sleep.

Two things are becoming obvious to you. First, you really don't understand Phil. Does he not see what's going on? Does he not notice the tension in the room when all three of you are there? Is he ignoring it, is it some sort of evasive technique of conflict resolution? In your crazy hysterics just now you actually said "like he hasn't seen all that before"? Does it not bother him? He is calm, almost detached.

You are actually surprised at John's behaviour. Why would a confident grown-up man behave like a pissy teenager, marking his territory, flailing his skills and making snarky remarks? "Finesse and technique, Philip." Really? How possessive is he? You are nothing to him, a small something, a girl who chickened out of his cold unemotional offer. Is it just a hurt pride of a rejected suitor? Is he angry to lose to a younger guy? What the fuck? It's his nephew, why would he behave like that?

The second thought is that coming here was the stupidest idea ever. One thing is having a past, another thing is having the past share breakfast with you. You don't let yourself think that the problem may not be about coming here, maybe it's about dating Phil in general… Bollocks, Wren, you just had to go there. You were perfectly happy in the uni, what has gone wrong?

A little unpleasant voice in your head sarcastically remarks that it has nothing to do with location, and everything to do with a certain Dark and Sexy. You thought you were perfectly happy until you saw John. Then you became perfectly unhappy.

Because you are in love with him.


	4. Chapter 4

You wake up with a splitting headache and alone. You feel like a parade of construction machines used your whole body as tarmac. Yesterday's fender-bender dulled after a night of restless sleep, you are lying down and staring at the ceiling.

Nothing really happened, Wren. You got caught in the act by your boyfriends' uncle. Embarrassing, yes, end of the world as we know it, no. You are a reasonable person. You know that happenstances like that get forgotten or turn into hilarious stories told in a grown-up company after a few too many drinks.

As for you satori last night, you are just overtired. Obviously, you are attracted to him. Anybody with a pulse would be. He is hot, smart, tormented. The last actually has to be verified. In the words of Admiral Ackbar, it still might be a "twap". That would be an actually perfect page from a playbook.

Most important, it is none of your business. You are spoken for. Your page with Dr. Grumpy has been turned when you decided to date his nephew. Remember that day, Wren? You said no to him, and then spent the night with Phil. Now get your lazy arse moving and fix it.

You throw yourself out of the bed and drag the mentioned above sorry arse to the shower. Then you venture to find painkillers and Phil. Phil, first.

**XXX**

He is predictably in the kitchen. He is sitting on a bar stool, chewing a toast and reading newspaper. You come from behind, slide your hands around his torso and bury your nose in the freshly washed, still slightly damp mane. It smells like shampoo and Phil.

"Good morning," you are purring. He turns and smiles to you. He seems really chuffed. "Did I sleep in?" You peak into his cup. "Just a bit," he moves his cup to you and you take a sip. Then you take his hand by the wrist and move his toast to your mouth. He is watching you bite into it. You swallow and he catches your mouth. He tastes like tea and bliss.

"Where is everyone?" "Left for the market." Hm… "So the house is empty..." Understanding lighten up in his eyes, and he throws the newspaper on the floor. He grabs your hand and runs up the stairs, jumping over two steps, dragging you behind. You are laughing, and feel light and alive.

**XXX**

You are lying on him, your bodies sweaty and cooling down, legs weirdly enough on the pillow. How did that happen? His eyes are closed, and he is drawing lazy patterns on your shoulder blades. "I think Uncle has feelings for you."

Really? Just like that? No drama, no brooding, no beating around the bush? You lift your eyes at him. He is surprisingly unruffled. You really don't know what to say here.

"I mean he is always hard on me. He is grooming me to be a great surgeon like himself. I get it. That's the only way to achieve it. He is much softer with Killian, which I also understand," he puts his hands behind his head. "But he is obviously more cheesed off than usual. And I think it's because of you."

You try to sit up, but he gently presses his palm on your back keeping you on him. "They won't be back for another half an hour. We can stay here more." You place your cheek on his heart. It's beating really evenly. "Are you cheesed off?" Your voice sounds weird. "Of course. I'm jealous like hell, but what am I going to do?"

You sit up and stare at him. His face is completely serene. "You don't look jealous." He smirks. It is a joyless smirk. "What would you have me do? Start a pissing contest with him? Take off our pants and compare the tools?" He settles on the bed more comfortably and puts the hands behind his head again. Then he looks into your eyes.

"Do you have feelings for my Uncle, Wren?" His expression is unreadable, and you feel suddenly cold. You recognize that it is the breed and the upbringing that you are looking at, the cold blue eyes and relaxed posture. That is not Phil, that's armour.

Make you choice, Wren. Lie to him, keep him, build your relationships on a lie. Tell the truth, hurt him, lose him. The problem is that you are really not that into lying.

He is smiling a cold smile. "Before you say anything, FYI, I'll believe you. I know you, Wren, you don't lie and you don't cheat. You don't manipulate people," his smile is frightening and ominous, "like me or Uncle. You are a good person, Wren. So tell me now, do you fancy my Uncle?"

You are pressing the covers to your chest, and you are shaking.

"He offered me to be his mistress, and I said no. But I can't stop thinking about him." Breathing is fucking painful. T time till vomiting thirty seconds.

Phil nods. "Why did you say no?" "Because it's just not me. He didn't want to be with me, he just wanted to have me. Like an object he liked in a shop. And it was that day when we slept together for the first time." He ponders this for a moment. "After you got sick?" "After you came and took care of me."

"Are you in love with me, Wren?" You feel like he is slapping you. Again and again. His cold unemotional questions are like short sharp blows. "Because I'm in love with you. I felt it after the first time we shagged. Never felt it before, but just like that," he opens his palm in a gesture mimicking an explosion, "Bam! I am in love with this girl." He is looking at you like at some interesting sample in his petri dish. "What is it about you, Wren? You bent two men to your will, who really were not going there any time soon."

You move away from him on the bed, suddenly feeling exposed, a thin cover not giving any protection. You feel violated, broken, he knew exactly what he was doing. Sleeping with you first and interrogating you after. You feel tears running down your cheeks.

"No," your voice is hardly audible. "What, sorry?" His eyes are dark, terrifying, and you shrink away. "No, I am not in love with you."

"Then why did you do this to me?!" His scream makes you wince away. It is pure rage and pain. He jumps up on his knees and towers over you. "Why did you hook up with me, Wren, for sex? I'll give you that, you are a glorious shag! But I've had plenty of that. You knew it's different for me this time!"

"No, I didn't!" you yell back, through tears and shaking. "How was I supposed to know?! Your history doesn't really hint at this!" "Why did you go on then? Why not come out in the open, when you saw you didn't feel the same way about me? You are a first class cold hearted bitch, Wren." He gets off the bed and pulls his jeans on. Then he grabs a shirt from the floor and leaves the room. You are clutching the sheets to your chest and take painful breaths in.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I feel like I should say that I personally think that what Phil did is a psychological abuse, an "emotional rape". He slept with her and then, when she couldn't protect herself, he forced her to answer his questions. In my personal experience, such emotional manipulation can scar a person the same way physical abuse does. Thus, this chapter.**

Run, Wren, run! This is the only thought thrashing in your panicked brain. You grab your clothes from yesterday. Your hands are shaking, and you can hardly pull the jeans on. You grab your handbag, and stumble down the stairs. The front door is open and Phil's Jag is gone from the driveway. You momentarily freeze.

Where would you go? You need a cab. But it won't come here for an hour. Then you remember that there was a bus station in the small village not far from the mansion. You close the front door behind you, a weird considerate gesture. You dash to the road and start running. You run until you can't breath anymore, and then you start walking, air cutting your lungs. Tears are running down your face, but you forget to wipe them. It is too cold, you should have taken a jacket. You are shaking, and then something snaps.

You sit in the grass by the road and hide your face in your palms. Stupid, stupid Wren. Bitchy, bitchy Wren. You deserve it, you do. You thought you will create yourself a fairy tale, magic yourself a loving boyfriend. Someone to care for you. Stupid Wren.

You feel momentarily confused. How did that happen? When? Just yesterday you had Phil, and everything felt so good, so right. And you were so happy. You are sobbing, and hugging your legs.

No, don't lie to yourself, Wren, at least not to yourself. You knew you were wrong. Fuck it, you knew you were. You knew Phil was falling for you. He would pause sometimes, look at you, and you felt that he was going to say it. What would you have said to him then, Wren? You really don't know now. Would you have said you loved him too? Would you have believed in it then? Fucking hell, Wren, how could you be so stupid?!

You had dreams of John. You and him, happy, in love, making love. You are in love with him and were from the start. You just tried to convince yourself you weren't. Because it hurt too much.

You are crying, and it feels like these are all those tears that you didn't let out before. When he threw you out of his tent, when Phil yelled at you in the morning, when you slapped John, when you were leaving him in that office. Your sobs are violent, painful, but that's better than keeping them all inside.

A car drives by, and you hope they won't notice you. But then the brakes scratch the road, and a door claps. Fuck, a good samaritan is the last thing you need right now. Go away, please! Why people can never mind their own business?

A pair of large arms picks you up and John's eyes are roaming you. "Wren? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" You feel very dizzy, from all the hysterics and because he picked you up so abruptly. "Wren, where does it hurt?"

"I am fine, nothing hurts," your knees buckle, and he supports you. He sits on the grass and puts you on his lap. His hands are touching your body, and it is so medical and detached that you push him away and try to move away. "Don't touch me!" Panic floods you, and you suddenly can't breath.

You scamper away from him, scratching and fighting, and he steps away from you, lifting his hands. "Wren, I am letting you go, see? I'm not touching you anymore." You are sitting in the grass breathing heavily. The air seems to finally flow in your lungs. "Wren, did he force himself on you?"

"No, no, I just got scared, he didn't assault me," you close your eyes and breath deeper. The panic subsides, and you can finally see what's in front of you. John is standing with his hands still raised, his face pale, a bruise on his left cheekbone.

Oh, no... You hide your face into your knees. "Wren, can I come up to you?" You nod into your knees. He sits near you. You feel his attentive eyes on you and continue hiding. "How did you know where I was?" "I assumed you would go for a bus." "What happened there?" He sighs. "You locked him out of the house. We came back and he was waiting on the porch... we talked." You lift your face and look at him. The bruise is deep, angry red. "He had no right, you didn't do anything wrong." "You didn't do anything wrong either, Wren."

"Are you crazy?!" You raise your voice and jump up on your feet. "It is all my fault!" "It isn't..." You so have had enough of his fucking calm, consoling tone! "Shut up, just shut up! You don't understand, you are a robot!" You are yelling to his face. Since he is still sitting, it is actually easy to do, for once. "For you it is all contract based, all trade, exchanging goods," you are raving, venomous words and clenched fists. "I used him, I broke him, just to get over you! Don't you dare justify what I did! And don't play saint now! You were provoking him this whole time! You didn't get a new toy and just couldn't let another play with it!"

He is looking at you and you, as usual, can't read his face. You pick up your handbag and start walking. He gets up as well. "Wren! At least let me give you a lift." You turn and look him, "No, please, just leave me alone." You just want to go home. "Wren, you are in no condition to walk ten miles." You keep on walking. "God, you are so stubborn."

He catches up with you and grabs your arm. You try to pull it out but he is obviously stronger. God, you hate him at this moment. Just leave me fucking alone! You almost lift your hand to slap him. He narrows his eyes. "Do it if it makes you feel better. I seem to recognize the symptoms of an upcoming slap already." You lower your hand. "Wren, I'm not letting you walk ten miles, God knows, whom you might meet on the road, with your luck especially." You jerk your arm again. He snaps, "Get in the fucking car, Wren. I'll drop you off at the bus station and you can play an independent woman again."

He drags you to the door and shoves you inside. You curl in a ball on the seat. You can't believe it was just yesterday that you were sitting in this same car, Phil hugging you and whispering silly nonsense in your ear. You feel tears coming again. You really have no strength left to hold them back.

He gets on the driver's seat and then sees you crying. "Wren, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." "Not everything is about you," you snarl back. "Just get me to the station." He starts the car and turns the wheel.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Neewa, I tried to put you prompt in the previous chapter but I really had to butcher it to fit the plot. Have you caught it? :)**

**RagdollPrincess, thank you for your messages and reviews, they really helped! Got my brain cogs going :)**

**UKReader, I loved the challenge! Give me more!**

By the time you get to the station you feel as calm as you can under the given circumstances. You think of apologizing to John, you were unfair. You want to choke it off on the stress, but then you tell yourself to shut the fuck up. Nothing you say or do these days seems right.

You need to learn to face the fucking facts and stop pussytoeing around the truth. And the fact is that you feel so violated, because you did feel there was something wrong in the way Phil shagged you in the morning. He was almost cold, detached, bent on a particular result. But you told yourself that it was about the last night. You ignored it.

It seems to be your overall motto in this relationships. You ignored your feelings, his feelings, John, you just hopped on the train and hoped you will catch up with Phil, and then you will ride happily into the sunset. Fucking coward.

"Wren," you lift your eyes. You are at the station. John is scrutinizing you again. "I'm alright. I am sorry I lashed out on you. Thank you for the ride," your voice is hollow. You jerk the door but it's locked.

"We need to talk before you go." No, no, no, you are not talking any more, not saying a single word. You are not doing anything, not making any decisions right now. You feel so raw, it seems, one hit and you will shatter. You nod. There is no fight left in you.

"Firstly, I am not certain you should be on your own right now. But since you insist, do you have a good friend, Wren? A person you can talk to right now?" Thea, warmth flickers in your chest, you will take the bus and will see Thea soon. You nod.

"Alright. Wren, if anything happens, give me a ring. Right away, without any doubt," he hands you his card and you passively put it into your handbag. He sighs again, and you feel his remarkable cold eyes scanning you again.

"And secondly, there is something you have to promise me." You don't have to promise him anything! A spark of old feistiness stirs in you. But you squash it down and nod again. "Under no circumstances you were to have any personal relationships with Maya Scaufield." You lift your eyes at him. That is the last thing you expected. "I was hoping to have this conversation in a cozy armchair by a fireplace," he smiles coldly, spitefully, "but difficult times… You can work with her, learn from her but you will not go for lunches with her, she will not take you shopping, no visits to operas or museums."

You feel absolutely out of your fucking depth. What kind of bloody knot of dirty secrets and old damages is there? How did you end up sucked into this?

"Is she the one who did a number on your emotions?" At this stage the previously mentioned non-existent filter between your brain and your mouth is but a forgotten hope.

He looks at you with pity. That is the worst. You shrink in your seat. "She is gay, Wren," he looks at you as if you are child that put its palm on a burning stove after being repeatedly told not to do it. Fucking brainless Wren. Quite right. "And a predator. She will feed on your insecurity and desire to be cared for and will destroy you. It happened to a friend's daughter."

You swallow. "You just went through a nasty break up, and I am really not sure how traumatized you are right now. That will be a perfect opportunity for her to convince you to question your sexuality and get you addicted to her. She is very good at that."

All you can do is nod. He unlocks the door, and you crawl out of the car. You clutch the bag to your chest and hobble to the station. Behind you the engine purrs tenderly, and it is all over.

**XXX**

You walk in the dorm and sit in the kitchenette. Thea is out, and you stay at the same chair for two hours. You sort and organize, you imagine a chest of drawers in your head, and you compartmentalize. You go through each and every day after the night at the swamp. You put the blame at yourself most of the time, but you also try to see Phil and John unemotionally.

Thea comes in and whatever she sees in your face makes her drop her bags and run to you. "Wren, Wrennie, what happened? What's wrong?! Did he hurt you?!" Thea tends to scream. And those glorious boobs are not just for decoration, they adorn a chest of a jazz singer. "Thea, I'm fine. A bit deaf now, probably, I think my ears literally bled a little, but I'm OK."

She is staring at you. You know you sound dead and hollow, but you just need her to listen. She nods and switches the kettle on. Then she sits in front of you. "Shoot, Wren." You flinch from the memory of Phil saying it and start talking.

**XXX**

You two are drunk. Very, very drunk. You had two glasses of wine, which is twice as much as you can handle. Wren had the rest of the bottle.

"Wren, you don't understand… It's not just The Dick and Dr. Sexy!" Somewhere on her fifth glass Thea came up with monikers. "Dr. Grumpy," you correct her, and the room sways. "He is still fucking sexy, whatever happened, Wren." You nod and sniffle. "Yes, he is, but you know what's the worst, Thea?" Hot drunk tears are running down your cheeks. "I stopped noticing after a while, I just cared too much, I wanted to know what was going on in his head, you know, like how he is all hurt and soft under this whole exterior..."

You fall face down on the sofa. You are not sure it is from emotion. Maybe you just can't sit straight any more. Wow, the upholstery is so soft… "You don't know it, Wren! Maybe under his cold crust he is like the same all the way through… like… like a Gobstopper." You giggle. "Have you ever tried biting a Gobstopper, Thea?" Thea looks haughty. "I can take it whole in my mouth, Wren. Why would I bite something I can suck?"

You both roar with laughter, but then she is suddenly serious. "I was saying, Wren, and it was important..." She freezes and stares at a wall. You sit up and wait. "Yes, I remember!" She yells triumphantly, and you cover your ears with your palms. "It's not just about those tossers, Wren, it's about you getting sucked into the whole family thing." "What?"

"Why do you think Dr. Sexy was so arsed about you shagging Dicky?" Although she has seen many of those, Thea is apparently still impressed by Phil's cock. Who wouldn't… "Because he is his older nephew, the whole alpha versus beta thing, peeing on trees, who's got the chick thing..." She gestures violently with her empty glass. "And their mother..."

"Oh, please, not Deadre…" You moan. Don't touch her! "What? Are you going to tell me she was not messing with this whole story? Tell me she didn't want you to hook up with Dicky so he stops fucking everything that walks!" You press your hands to your ears again and shake you head. You don't want to hear that, not Deadre, please!

"Wren, you have abandonment issues, she was a perfect substitute mother for you! You are quick to get attached and you crave love, believe me, I know how you feel," you've been friends since you were five, of course she does, "You were perfect for her. You are strong, smart, attractive, marry her favourite son to you would be perfect!" You press your face in the back of the sofa and moan again. "And you know he is her favourite. He is the copy of her brother, for her the sun shines through his arse."

The mental image of sun shining through John's arse is the last drop. You fall on the floor and wail. It is laughter and crying at the same time, and you curl into a tight ball. Thea sinks near you on the floor. She is rubbing your back. "You need to remember who you are, Wren. You wanted me to honestly say what I think, and I'm telling you. None of the decisions you made recently is you. Not the Wren I know."

You are crying in her arms, but you know she is right.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The Crazy Prompts game is awesome! I'm loving every second of it! But you guys are really demure. Bring it on :)**

**Dear Guest, I have to push your "The way he kissed was unexpected" to the next chapter but it will be there for sure. And how magnificent this prompt is! Thank you! I'll try not to disappoint :)**

For the next three months you work. It's all you do. You go to classes, study in your dorm, and work on your grant. You get up in the morning, force breakfast into yourself and go to the uni. After lectures you go straight home. You attempt to stuff more food into yourself, and then you go to the lab where you work on the Yamataki project.

You don't go out, you don't talk to people. You are working through your process, and soon people stop inviting you anywhere. You go shopping with Thea couple times, but you are so distracted that at some point she smacks you to the head with a folded sweater. "Wren, get your head out of your arse!" You really try and take a few things to a fitting room. But nothing fits. You lost so much weight that they simply don't make sizes that small. Thea suggests kids department.

Dr. Maya Scaufield comes often, you have meetings, and sometimes she observes your research. She invites you to lunch, you politely decline, explaining that you have loads of homework. She smiles and says she understands. She asks you one more time, but after you refuse again she never comes back to this topic. You really can't see in her this crazy shit predator that John described, but you follow his advice.

Sometimes you think that he was just taking the piss. She is confident, gorgeous, wavy blond hair going down below her shoulder blades, her manners are resolved but warm. She is professional and ethical to the extreme. Are we even talking about the same woman, John?

Twice you run into Phil in the coffee shop on campus. Your heart is beating so much that you are considering giving up coffee completely. And consequently the need to go to the coffee shop. He gives you a long inquisitive stare and then leaves without saying anything. He is calm and confident, an unpleasant smirk on his lips. Which is a different side of him that you encountered for the first time that fucking morning in the mansion. You really don't want to see it ever again.

**XXX**

You are pushing your Choco Snaps around the bowl, drawing chocolate swirls in the milk with a spoon, when Thea drops a box on the table in front of your nose with a loud thud. You jump up. It is a vibrator. You are bloody scared to ask. "This is for you, Wren."

"Pardon?" It is pink and very, very large. You are cautiously staring at the "XXXL" pink letters on the box. "When did you do it last time?" She is pinning you to the chair with a strict glare. "What?" You are reduced to one word mumbling. "Masturbated, Wren. And more importantly, when did you have an orgasm the last time?" Three months ago. With Phil.

"Last night," there is no use telling her it's none of her business. She is like a fucking bulldozer. "That's poppycock, Wren, and we both know it." "I just don't feel like it that often," you snap and shove a spoonful of nauseatingly sweet cereal in your mouth.

"Are you giving up on men, Wren, is that it? Your body has needs, my dear, and you have to stop punishing it. You are jittery and disgustingly skinny. You are a passionate woman, Wren, with Dicky you were at it all night long, the walls here are not that thick." You feel like throwing up. "Damn it, Wren, when you are all fired up, even I want to shag you into a wall. And I'm strict into cock. These days you look like my Aunt Cecile, she literally had more cats that you had men in your life." That's a hell lot of cats. "So take my generous gift and if I don't hear buzzing tonight, we are going to have a long conversation." She turns on her heels and regally leaves the kitchenette.

You are considering turning it on for a bit at night, just so that she wouldn't bug you with that again. You have no desire to stick it in yourself. To be honest you have no desire for anything at all. John was right, you have been traumatized. You have an irrational fear that if you ever want to use Thea's present, your mind would push Phil's image on you, and you are terrified. Even worse so, you don't want the image a pair of large hands with long fingers on your shoulders and a curtain of black and silver hair, a heavy hot body pressing into you.

You stuff the pink monstrosity in the bottom drawer of your desk.

**XXX**

You ace your tests and the project is advancing with flying colours. Two more months go by, you gain your weight back. You still don't go out, mostly out of pathetic fear of running into Phil or Killian. You saw both of them numerous times on campus, but neither talked to you. Not that you were really trying. Killian always nods or waves, but not more than that. He has his puppy eyes mode on and scrams. You feel relieved.

Thea seems to get a bit easy on the whole abstinence thing, until one day she ambushes you at the breakfast again. This time it's not a box, but a gift card to a lingerie store. She flops on chair across the table from you and pushes the plastic rectangular towards you. "I'm taking you shopping." You consider immigration to Australia.

"Thank you but I don't need anything new, I'm all covered." "Exactly my point, Wren." She is tapping on the table. "We are going shopping tonight, Wren, and you are buying the hottest set we encounter. Your inner goddess needs stimulation". Your inner goddess needs fucking resuscitation.

"I actually do need to go shopping, we have this charity dinner in the Yamataki lab. I need a dress." "Great," she jumps up, "and we are buying you a new perky set to go underneath it. Maybe you will find someone to go home with after it, and you need to be ready." Never in your fucking life again. Wait, did you just renounce one night stands in your head? Or sex in general?

Maybe after the party you should meet Mr. Big and Pink, Thea's words, not yours. You are turning into a hag. But seriously, no, you are not going along that road ever again. You would rather poke your eye out with a pencil than get entangled in another emotionally draining, full of constant wondering and insecurity relationships with anything male. And no one off things either. Remember how it jumped out of actual swamp shrubbery and bit your arse later? At least not for the nearest five years. You are getting your degree, then couple more, you ace the Yamataki project, get another grant , and discover the cure for all possibles diseases in the world. That sounds more like a twenty year plan, but you are really not in a hurry to go back into the bloody game.

You find the perfect dress rather quickly. It is a black shift dress, strict and elegant. Thea is livid. To pacify her you buy a super sexy set of lacy bra and thongs. You like how they look at you, but really, you are not showing them to anybody any time soon.


	8. Chapter 8

The party is surprisingly nice. Since you work with most of the people who came on the daily basis, the conversations are easy. And since you are wearing a boring dress and your hair is pulled up in a neat bun, you don't get much attention from men in there, even after copious amounts of champagne. Which in your books these days is a bloody plus. You sip your water and listen to one of the interns droning about next year's Student Council election.

Dr. Scaufield comes up to you and leads you away from the company of your peers. You tense. She is wearing a red dress, her back bare, it is both very classy and steamy. She places her hand on your waist and pushes you towards a small group of men in suits.

"This is future Dr. Wren Leary, our prodigy," she introduces the men in her lilting voice. Most of them are big shots in pharmaceutical companies and biochem funds. You shake hands and smile. They are not very interested, getting back to their previous conversation rather quickly.

One of them, standing nearest to you, is Elliot Thrundon, his elegant upper-class profile familiar to you from all the Forbes publications. He is so tall that if you screw your eyes at him, even though you are wearing high heels for once, you'll be looking at the top button of his waistcoat. "Don't mind them," his low enticing voice is suddenly pouring into your ear. "All they care about is their money and ulcers they gained chasing their millions." You look at him startled, and he smiles to you. The teeth are white, and the blue irises are enhanced by thick black lashes.

He is mesmerizing, blond, almost white hair, cold blue eyes and striking dark eyebrows. Everything about him looks as if etched on a stone surface. Long thin nose, with an elegant bridge and delicate nostrils, curved, well defined lips, his body long and lithe. He has the longest legs you have ever seen. Not that you are looking. At least not now. You remember, how you and Thea were discussing him couple years ago. His photo in a tuxedo with loosened bow tie was in every magazine and newspaper. Some sort of a sex scandal. "If that is how all the big shots on your field look like, I'm switching my degree," Thea shook her head and had some more wine.

You are probably staring. He smiles even wider. "No wonder that so many pharmaceutical funds finance the antacid research then," you whisper in return. He guffaws and leans closer. An alarm goes off in your head. A weird chill clenches in your chest, you've never felt like that before, and you literally take a step back. "Excuse me," you are almost running.

You pretend to go back to the table with drinks. You are pouring yourself more water, and your hands are shaking. What's wrong with you, Wren? He was flirting, you answered, why are your palms clammy? Fuck, fuck, fuck… You take a deep breath. It's a new strange fear, after five months of being isolated, the thought of getting close to anyone, of anything slightly reminding of intimacy is terrifying. You got a vibe from him that he found you attractive, his pupils dilated, when he leaned closer he breathed in, his tall body towering over you, and you fucking panicked. Is this how you are going to react to any male from now on?!

"Miss Leary," you jump up from John's low voice behind you. You spill your water and grab a napkin to pat the table. Fucking fuck, that was intense! You throw the cloth on the puddle and turn around. He looks good in a black three-piece suit. "Good evening," you mutter. Seriously, Wren, that is not how elegant well-mannered young ladies speak. They also probably do not have two painful flaming spots on their cheekbones. The water is dripping on the floor.

He hikes up his brows. "I'm sorry I've startled you," his tone is soft, cautious. Right, the last time he saw you you were yelling, crying, treating him like a potential rapist. No wonder that he is talking to you like you are bloody mental. "It's quite alright, I was lost in my thoughts. Excuse me," you are fleeing again. It's getting repetitive.

**XXX**

Balcony, balcony is always good. Fresh air, starry night, no attractive men in suits. You are bending on the rails and look down. You can see the halls from here, there is wild party in one of buildings. You can bet a hundred quid that Thea is there now. Maybe you should go too. Leave this stuffy place, no one will notice anyways, and have some fun.

"Miss Leary, what a pleasant happenstance," Thrundon has a very, very sexy voice. Whatever he says sounds like dirty talk pretty much. You spin and stare at him. You realize what it looks like. Like you are an inexperienced blushing virgin, cornered by a tall dangerous stranger, her breasts, well, whatever you have there, heaving and eyes widened. Is that what you are these days, Wren?

Or are you the smart, confident woman that you once thought you were? You straighten up. "Mr. Thrundon, since this is the only balcony in the hall everyone is destined to meet here. Especially if they indulge in this nasty habit," you point at a fag in his hand with your eyes. He gives you a lopsided smirk. "Want one?" That sounds so fucking indecent.

"No, thank you." He comes closer and leans on the rail near you. "You are very talented, Wren," oh, we are on first name basis now? Thorington waited for two sessions of heavy petting for that. Not the point now, Wren. He throws the cigarette over the rails and suddenly picks up your hand. "I think you should come work for me, Wren, we can become wonderful collaborators." He presses his lips to your knuckles.

The kiss feels unexpected. To be honest, it doesn't feel like anything. All his seductive talk, and all you do is chuckle. "Really?" You tone makes him lift his eyes at you. "Does anyone ever falls for that? I'm sorry, it just sounded so bodged up, like you really didn't put any effort in it. Do I look so easy?"

He straightens in all his immense height. "Perhaps I misjudged." "Most likely," you turn to return inside. "You definitely do not look easy, Wren dearest, if anything you look very demure. More interesting it would be to unwrap you." Don't say with your teeth, you wanker, or I will kick you in the bollocks. You turn around, clenching your teeth. "You are a discovery waiting for the daring, Miss Leary."

"I thought you hire others to discover, Elliot. Perhaps you should limit your efforts to writing checks," John's menacing voice behind you makes you jerk. Fuck no, he is not sauntering in here like a fucking knight in shining armour! You were managing it. Condescending, chauvinistic, cantankerous…

"John, my dear," Thrundon lights up another cigarette. "Came to check up on your pet? Maya told me how territorial you get about your little ginger in here." What the actual fuck?

You stare at John's face. His jaws are clenched, eyes dark, and you can feel rage radiating from him. He fists his right hand and starts moving towards the blond. You step in front of him and place your hand on his chest. He blinks and looks at you in shock. His heart is beating frantically under your palm. "Let's go inside, John. The slug is not worth it."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: ****RagdollPrincess**** told me about a song that reminds her of this story. I listened to it, and I'm madly in love with it! It is just in the right proportions melancholic and sensual. It is "If I Didn't Know Better" from TV show **_**Nashville. **_** If you can, listen to it when reading this chapter, especially the dancing scene. And yes, there is dancing in this one.**

**Thank you for all your prompts! I think I'm keeping up but if I forgot someone, feel free to remind me. Also, don't hesitate to send them if someone already did. The more, the merrier :)**

You feel John' s chest rising under your hand. His fists are still clenched, and you momentarily wonder, would that actually escalate into physical violence if you didn't stop him. You are also certain that it has very little to do with you. Like you thought, there is some tangled web of nasty secrets and dark past there. And our dear Dr. Scaufield is in it too. Thrundon is smirking by the rails, enjoying his fag.

One thing you are sure is that you seem to have some control over John at the moment, and the last thing you need is a donnybrook. If they wish in their free time come at each other like two roosters, they can have at it. But not now, when you are involved. Last thing you need is to be "that chick Thorington messed up Thrundon's face over." You are rather sure whose face will be messed up. John is only an inch shorter and twice as wide in the chest.

Another thought comes. Is he actually going to fight with these hands?! The ones that can actually perform the best ventricular endoscopy on colloid cysts in the world? To arse up his dextrosity is a crime against humanity! No fucking way you will let him do it in front of you!

You give his shoulder a little push. "John," your tone is authoritative. At least you hope so. He is frozen, nostrils flare, but then he takes a sharp breath, and his eyes lose the furious gloss. He looks at you. "Can we, please, go inside?" He lets you pass ahead of him and follows.

**XXX**

The party is raving. As most of people working in stressful environment, medical students and scientists tend to approach the notion of "letting off some steam" a little bit too enthusiastically. There is more booze, loud music and dancing.

You give John a sideways look. He is still fuming, lips pressed together, jaw muscles tense. A slow dance starts, and to your complete shock you hear your own, rather squeaky voice, "Would you dance with me, Dr. Thorington?" You immediately feel like an barmy clot. Are you mental, Wren? About a hundred different scenarios of him refusing rush in front of your eyes. No, he doesn't dance. No, he would not dance with you personally even to save his life. No, never with a chavvy little thing like you. And your favourite, him smirking disdainfully and just leaving. "I'd love to, Miss Leary."

He picks up your hand and leads you into the midst of dancing couples. And then you are mortified, because what the fucking fuck, Wren? Did you really just asked him to a dance? Are you really going to dance with Dr. Dark and Sexy, yes, he got him moniker back, sometime around the moment when you saw his black three-piece suit and the red tie, really, are you?! In front of all your colleagues and a bunch of his acquaintances?! To a slow sensual music?! Call an ambulance, Wren Leary obviously had a stroke!

He envelops your hand in his large palm, his second hand slides on your shoulder blade, and you forget that there is anyone else in the room. You press your fingers into his and exhale. He starts moving, leading, but not domineering, setting up the rhythm, and you feel an electric current running through every single neuron in your body. You are gliding, his wide chest in front of your eyes and you feel hot, heady blush flooding your cheeks. He is looking at your face, you feel his gaze as a warm caress, on your lashes and eyelids, your cheeks, your lips, but you can't seem to dare lift your eyes. "Wren..." Did you even hear that whisper, or you are imagining it? You slowly raise your eyes. His irises are dark, stormy blue, pupils dilated, expression tender and sensual. You feel his thumb brushing the edge of your shoulder blade, and you feel a flash of heat running through your spine, from your pelvis up, into the base of your skull. Your body is oversensitive, skin tingly, your fingers twitch. You slide your gaze at his lips. They are slightly open, and he notices your looking. The tongue darts out, and he licks the bottom lip. You swallow. "Wren..." Is he asking about something? For something? Permission?

The music stops but he doesn't, still swaying, his eyes on your face. And then a frisky tune blares, and he jolts out of the hypnosis. He steps back, and your back is instantly cold where his large palm was. But he doesn't let go of your other hand, and the two of you are frozen in the middle of wildly jumping and wriggling crowd. His thumb brushes you knuckles, and you take a shuddered breath.

**XXX**

The music is abruptly interrupted by Dr. Maya Claufield making an announcement. John lets go of your palm and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dress trousers. Something at the bottom of your stomach flutters, and to your terror you recognise the heat spreading between your thighs. To your suddenly aroused body the gesture somehow seems very erotic, and you step away from him. Sod it, Wren, after five months of absolutely no interest in it at all, now you are horny?!

"For today's cause we decided that a mock auction would be a lovely, facetious idea," Maya gives a low sensual chuckle, and the audience cheers. She has everyone twisted around her perfect manicured finger. "As our research is to enhance the understanding of human DNA, we decided we will auction two objects donated by our guests, intertwined in perfect union, a tie and a ribbon of sorts perhaps?" She suggestively lifts a brow. "Would a male and a female guest care to donate such items?" People are chuckling, some men are reaching for the knots on their ties. "How about our lovely couple in the center of the dancefloor?" Oh, no. Fuck, this is not happening. "Dr. Thorington and Miss Leary, we could not possibly ignore what a wonderful couple you make, such a beautiful, sensual dance. The darkness and the strength on one side, the delicate flame on the other. Please, applause to our dearest representatives of the science community."

The audience is clapping and every pair of eyes is on you. You want to die. Right there, right now, anything just to escape this. Anything, an aneurysm would be the best. You are shaking, and panic floods you. And that moment you feel John's arm wrapping around your waist, and he pulls you into his side. "Maya, dearest, your matchmaking is getting old," his tone is light, assured, and he laughs. Everyone joins, and he kisses your cheek. You lift your eyes at him, and you wonder if Dr. Claufield can see the hatred that is splashing in his eyes. No one else seems to, since they are chuckling at his joke and nudging each other with their elbows. You breath easier, his palm on your skin calming, secure. The warmth from his body alleviates your shivering, envelops you.

"Besides it's my third favourite tie," more laughter ensues. "Really, John, you are not giving it up, not even for a charitable cause? Perhaps, Wren dearest, you could convince him," his fingers press onto your waist, and you feel composed and safe. You look into his face, and his eyes are warm, encouraging. Common, Wren, you can do it. You reach and pull at the knot of his tie, and the crowd roars. He smiles to you, the big cat smile that you've never seen before. The blue hiding behind the blackness of lashes, corners of lips raised, little wrinkles running from the corners of the eyes. Husbands smile to their mischievous wives this way.

"But we don't have the second item!" Maya reiterates her attack. "Is that a ribbon I see in your hair, Wren? Perhaps, John can return the favour." More clapping follows, and he turns to you. Oh, fuck, as if pretty much undressing him in public wasn't enough, now he is going to tread his fingers in your hair. What's next, will he have to remove your garter with his teeth?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Oh, I love you all so much! The whole prompts thing is a blast! Initially there was a fight in the previous chapter, then I got worried about Dr. Dark and Sexy's hands, he is a surgeon after all, and I got stuck! And then your prompts pushed me in a completely new direction and I'm actually super pleased with it. Thank you! Thank you, ****RagdollPrincess**** for the song, ****lamje**** for "charity" prompt (it brought the whole idea of an auction), ****UKReader**** for the "teeth" (garter *nudge nudge*, did everyone get the hint?:), and a guest for "unexpected kiss" (I weaseled out of it, no puckering for Dr. Sexy yet:)! Hope you like what I did in this chapter with your prompts :) Oh, you are all the best!**

You love your hair. Yes, it is a colour of a happy ripe carrot, but it's soft, wavy, and there is plenty of it. To be honest, it might be the only thing you completely like about yourself. The freckles are a downer, to say nothing of being the size of an average twelve year old. You really wish sometimes to have some bloody presence in this world. How can a girl assert herself if in most cases you either talk to people's buttons or your neck gets stiff from looking up?

And you have a very sensitive nape and scalp. Your skin in general is pale, tender, bruising easily, so you don't take being touched lightly. But you just have a thing for men touching the back of your head. To be honest it is a sure turn-on for you, as in panties dropping, brain off, grabby hands right there, right now turn-on. Which Phil discovered very quickly, and used to his advantage repeatedly. You once jumped his bones in a broom closet at uni because he was teasing you in the library and running his fingers on your nucha.

John picks up the end of the nude ribbon wrapped around your bun and gently pulls. It wouldn't go. There are pins going through the ribbon, in the tight knot of the hair. You quickly pull them out, and he is tugging again. The hair falls on your shoulders. You've been ignoring it for a while, it really grew out. You run your fingers through it, the scalp feels funny, after such a tight bun. You were really aiming for the spinster look.

John smiles to you, a warm affectionate smile, and you blush again. He passes the ribbon to a bloke standing near him. "Would you please bring this to Dr. Claufield?" The guy saunters to her, but all you can see is John's eyes roaming your hair. You look down and see his lowered hand. The long fingers twitch, and you feel like pushing your head to him. A cat headbutt. "Common, scratch me and I'll purr for you" type of thing. What the fucking hell is wrong with you, Wren? And by the way, have you noticed how bloody often you have to ask yourself that recently?!

**XXX**

The auction is a blast. Some middle-aged pharmaceutical representative buys John's tie and gives it back to him. He graciously kisses her cheek and hangs it around his neck. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and you have trouble breathing. Let's face it, since you touched that tie knot, you feel narked.

There is a bit more betting on your ribbon, and you actually feel a bit smug about it. At least it is for a good cause. After a few people shout increasingly flattering sums, and then Thrundon doubles the amount offered by a previous bidder, and you feel really tired of his shite. You are slightly worried, but John laughs and kisses your cheek again. His hand is on your shoulder, and you lean into him.

**XXX**

You are exhausted. Mostly from smiling and pretending that you don't notice everyone's curious looks. You are standing near John, all the big shots suddenly interested in what you have to say. Wankers.

At some point you are just so buggered that you politely say goodbye to the small circle of men standing around you and head for the exit. You say your goodbyes to a few familiar faces on your way out, most of the party is still dancing wildly. God, they are all so pissed. Maybe you will come home and drink couple glasses yourself. You might get sick from it, but you know that as soon as you are out of here, you mind will start racing. And you just don't want to go there.

**XXX**

You are checking out your coat, when a velvet voice comes from behind. "Though I only got the ribbon, it seems no one got the present either," Thrundon is leaning on a wall waving your ribbon in front of him. He is obviously bladdered. "And here I thought our dear John will be opening this giftwrap tonight." That's it, you wanker.

"Mr. Thrundon," your voice sounds suspiciously like a hiss. "I understand your money is enough to pay off any sexual harassment charges, but money can't buy you new balls. And you will need those, if you don't back off." You exaggerate your pikey accent. "Are we clear, you manky arsehole?"

He tenses his jaw and suddenly grabs your upper arm. It hurts. "You will know your place, your trashy slag!" Did you mention the balls? Yep. The knee flies up, and he groans, kneeling on the floor. You are considering adding a kick, when John's hearty laugh rolls through the parlour.

"And here I was coming dragging my knuckles on the floor," he is smiling but his eyes are still jammed. "I tend to forget that you are a dangerous juvenile delinquent, Miss Leary." You are breathing heavily, and he comes up to Thrundon, and lifts him by the back of his jacket collar. The blond tries to twist out of the grip, hissing some swearing and threshing his long legs on the floor. Keeping his head about a foot above the ground, John smiles unpleasantly and starts dragging him to an adjoint room. "Have a good evening, Miss Leary." His voice is perfectly polite and even.

"You too, Dr. Thorington," you rush through the exit. Yep, definitely booze. And a lot of it.

**XXX**

You stomp into your dorm room and grab a bottle of vodka out of your freezer. You make a huge gulp. It tastes like sin. Let's be honest here, to you it tastes like gasoline and Jelly Babies. Ugh! Seriously, candy flavoured vodka? What kind of a pillock came up with that?

This whole fucking evening was a roller coaster. Forget the arsehole Thrundon, that happened before. You get dirtily hit on a lot, it's the ginger curse. But John… Dancing, touching, him staring at your lips, the silk of his tie under your finger, his heat and cologne when he was pressing you into him… You make another gulp. His eyes, his lips, his fingers in your hair… Wait, that didn't happen! But you can so easily imagine it, the feeling of his long fingers scratching your scalp. Especially since he did it when in that damn tent you were… Don't go there! Nope, too late… His massive cock in your mouth, his throaty moans… More vodka!

Thea and that same Irishman from Genetics tumble through the door, in a mess of extremities and giggling. Then they are staring at you. Quite a spectacle, you have to agree. You are standing in the middle of the kitchenette still in your coat, a vodka bottle pressed to your lips.

"Wren, darling," Thea's voice is cautious, as if talking to a timorous wild animal, "Are you trying to kill yourself?" "I'm trying not to make a call." His card is in the bottom drawer of your desk. Together with Mr. Big and Pink.

"Jimmy, you need to go..." The bloke is zipping up his trousers. "Wait," you are slurring. Fuck it, it always hits you so fast. "You've been here before!" You are narrowing your eyes suspiciously. "And no one ever gets a second go. You are shagging the same bloke for the second time, Thea!" You cannot remember the last time you were in such a shock! "Are you... dating, Thea?" "Jimmy..." Thea's voice is menacing. "Bye, love. Wren." He rushes out of the room, and you black out.

**A/N#2: Re: John's hands :) they are probably more Richard's than Thorin's. Don't get me wrong, the idea of the King Under the Mountain's hands groping some rounds parts of female anatomy gets me every time. But then in _Spooks_ Richard is constantly drinking something from Styrofoam cups, rubs his neck and types. How can a girl ignore those strong palms, long fingers and elegant masculine wrists?! *head banging to a table* **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: ****RedHairedJenna****, welcome to the club! :) Join us crazy birds in here :) I saw your prompt after I finished the chapter unfortunately, so poor Wren will have to drink again to get a hangover in the next one. What are you doing to the poor baby? :)**

**A/N#2: "The bag of potatoes"! I felt nostalgic about "Thorin's Morning After". Good old days with the King Under the Mountain and his Filegethiel :)**

**A/N#3: Oh my lovelies, you rock!**

The next two days are the worst days in your life. Alright, that's an exaggeration but you have never puked that much in your life for sure. Apparently, Thea dragged your breathless body to bed and the only sign of life from you was, again according to Thea, sensual murmuring "Oh, Dr. Thorington, please take me right here on this table". You sincerely doubt her truthfulness.

When you can open your mouth without vomiting, you tell her about the auction and the kneeing episode. She approves and dreamily speculates on how and where John "endonoscopied the blond wanker." Her knowledge of medical sciences is mediocre.

You never discuss the Irishman. She doesn't seem inclined, and what kind of friend would you be to pressure her? When or if she wants to talk, she knows you are always here to listen.

The next week and a half go completely smoothly, everything seems to be back to normal. Not too many rumours seem to spread through uni. Someone mentions there was a hitch at the charity party but all together no one bothers. You don't hear anything about broken noses or bruised knuckles and assume everything ended peacefully. You breath out and go on with your work.

For a few days after the party you do not see Dr. Claufield. Then she shows up with her usual laptop and folders and behaves like nothing happened. Alrighty, two can play this game.

Another week later she glides into the lab. You are working on your laptop, swaying your ponytail to Lady Gaga in your earphones. You swear, it is Thea's iPod. She places a cup of your usual coffee and the right amount of sugar and cream sachets on the table in front of you. Creepy…

You pull the earphones out and fix your glasses. "Wren, dearest," her voice is all honey and purr. Bitch. "Dr. Claufield, good morning." "Please, dear, I asked you hundreds of times, call me Maya." That has never happened. "Good morning, Maya," your lips are smiling but you hope she sees in your eyes the mental image you have in your head. It involves stuffing her perfectly coiffed blond head in a loo. Pimping you at that party and using you for her petty vengeance for some beef with John, not cool. If she wants to arse him up, she should do it without involving you in it. Surely, she can mess up something in his rich, vibrant life. Key his car, bitch, but leave me out of it.

"Wren, you were invited to the Rivendell Institute for a guest lecture. They wanted a presentation on our research, and I suggested you. I think you will win the audience right away, with you charming personality and profound knowledge of the subject." Alright, where is the hidden poop in this offer? "It is an all-paid-for, three day weekend, a room in the Sheraton hotel, border, spa. You can even bring a plus one, the room is either King bed or two Queens. They sent the proposal so just look through it."

She is smiling very pleasantly. And you think that you are a very, very poor judge of character. How did you even doubt John's evaluation of her character? You really should learn to listen. You are just so angry at him all the time, so your logic goes down the chute.

You return her smile. "Thank you, Maya, that would be a privilege." She pats your shoulder and leaves. You close your laptop with a clap. This is way too good to be good news. A weekend in a luxurious hotel, a chance to meet Dr. Elwing, big fan by the way, representing your lab, potentially turning it into a publication. If you didn't know you would assume she liked you. Which you know for sure is not true.

You pick up your phone and leave Thea a message. After all, whatever this is all about, you two can really use a weekend in a five start hotel and resort.

Just as you are about to bite into your granola bar, someone plucks it from your hands. You turn around and see John. "Miss Leary, we need to talk," he drops the bar back into your Tardis lunchbox with a slight disgust on his face. "Common, I'm taking you out for lunch." "What?" A thought runs through your brain matter that staring with your mouth agape is very unattractive, Wren. He picks you up under your elbow and makes you get up. "Common," he is literally dragging you to the exit and you only manage to grab your handbag from the chair.

**XXX**

You leave through the back staircase, and he is opening the door to his Jag in front of you. Your stubbornness flares up. Is he embarrassed to be seen with you? That's what the hasty sneaking away is all about? You freeze in front of the car. "Get in, Wren," his tone is irritated. "No," you are pouting. Why does he always manage to bring up an unreasonable, petulant child in you? "Not until you explain what is going on."

"I need to talk to you and I do not want to do it here." "What about what I want?" Oh, that sounded so childish. Pull yourself together, Wren. Being hasty and bad-tempered with him never brought good results before. You will make wrong assumptions, and then you will be sorry for it later! As always.

He gives you a long pointed look. It is like he is looking at a puppy that is considering peeing on a carpet. Like "I love you but I will smack your backside if you don't start behaving." And then you realize what you just thought, and violent blush spreads over your cheeks. No, get your mind out of the gutter. No imagining him smacking your bum. Shite. Alright, libido, I have an impressive vibrator and I'm not afraid to use it. So shut it and wait till the evening.

"Sorry, I just don't understand," you lower your head but you are holding your position. He is not dragging you with him like a bag of potatoes. "Wren, please, get in the bloody car." By now you know that if he is swearing you really managed to piss him off.

You sigh and climb inside. He smacks the door way too forcefully and gets on the driver's seat. "What cuisine?" "What?" "Lunch, Wren, what do you want for lunch?" He sounds peevish and really exasperated with you. You are really tempted to say "tacos" and see him squirm but you restrain yourself. On the other hand, seeing him biting into a crunchy shell with his even white teeth might be the end of you. Juice will trickle down his hand, he will lick it, suck on his skin… Evening, libido, wait till evening, we will finally unpack Thea's gift and you can imagine his lips on anything you want. Shite!

"Doesn't matter," your voice is strangled, and he gives you a confused sideways glance. He starts the car, and you just hope it's not sushi. All innuendos aside, you hate raw fish.

**A/N#4: And finally, have you considered that there are probably six or seven chapters left in this fic, since it should probably follow the format of "Touch the Nerve"? *wink wink* The resolution is impending!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: All the prompts are in the next chapter. This one required "finesse and technique" (ehehehe:) but the next one is almost done already. They are all there :)**

**A/N#2: Guest who sighs her/his reviews as PS, was it prompt or were you telling me to be thorough? :)**

**A/N#3: I'm thinking five more chapters and we are done. *hides behind an armchair and peeks from behind it* Ask me about a sequel? ;)**

He slams your back into the wall, his hot mouth of yours, the kiss bruising your lips. One of his hands is pressed into the wall on the side of your head, above your shoulder, the other one is keeping your face at the angle he needs, your chin between his index finger and his thumb, he is lifting it up to easier reach your mouth. Then he hoists you up with his knee, pressed up between your legs, and your feet don't reach the ground any more. You whimper. He turns your face up and to the side, and attacks your neck. You pull yourself up wrapping your arms around his neck and hug his waist with your legs.

He lowers the foot down and shifts both hands on your arse, supporting your weight. He straightens up and now it's your turn to bite and lick his neck. He growls and slams you into the wall again. "Wren... Wren... Wrennie..." It sounds like a prayer. You grab handfuls of his hair and pull. "Wren, please... fuck it…" He is kissing you again, greedily, hungrily. "Please, curse it, the back pocket!.." You twist your body to reach, he bites the back of your neck. You moan and press your hand into his denim pocket. And pull out a condom. Sudden cold soberness comes over you. How the fuck did you end up in this position?

**XXX**

Right, it starts with lunch. He parks in front of that small French bistro they opened at the ground floor of the old Hilton in downtown. To be honest, you feel relieved. No bloody way you are letting him pay for your meal. And unlike him that bistro is probably as expensive as you can afford. Anything more posh, and you would have to limit yourself to a cup of tea. Not that you are in the mood for eating. Let's face it, you tend to puke from stress, like a puppy. And right now you feel very noticeably nauseated.

He walks around the car to open you the door, but you are already outside. He frowns. hello, Dr. grumpy is back. It is a bit funny, and you giggle. "Are you going to make a sarcastic remark about my outdated manners, Miss Leary?" "I'm sure in your times they were perfectly up-to-date, Dr. Thorington." God, Wren, you just can't help yourself around him. Something brings up this weird rebellious side in you. You suspect it is the extreme arousal that you are fighting near him at all times. Bugger. He guffaws, an actual open laugh, and loops his arm. "Shall we?"

The cafe is nice, not too pretentious, he chooses a small table in a dim niche. Is he hiding you from others again? You bite your tongue. Alright, Wren, this is how we are going to do it. You are going to be completely civilized, you are not going to go bonkers, overreact and snap. You have learnt your bloody lesson.

And even more so, you have to remember where you stand these days. You are an independent, fairly smart woman. Yes, you are endlessly attracted to him but you are not going down that road again. He is dashing, you are sane. Listen to what he has to say, it is probably something useful, and get the fuck out of here.

Your server comes and lights a candle on your table. Shite. "Can I offer you drinks for the start?" "Water, please," your usual answer. "They have decent house wine," his nose is buried in the menu. "No, thank you, just water for me." You order your food, and he leans back on his chair.

Oh fuck, can he be more delectable? Dark denim, light blue shirt with navy blue stripes, collar open, perfect cut of the dress jacket. Everything is just right. Fuck… You sip your water and wait patiently. Also, you don't dare talking, since you would probably sound breathy. You press your knees together.

Why do you feel like you are in a headmaster's office? You didn't feel that way about him, for example, after you almost shagged in the Dean's office. It's probably his unwavering confidence. Once there is a crack in his cold exterior, you feel like you are actually talking to a person. Right now, in front of you, that is not a person, it is an incorporation of your endlessly graphic sexual fantasies. You had to jill off twice last night just to stop thinking about him. By the way you still haven't unwrapped Thea's present. You haven't told her obviously, mostly out of fear that you would have to explain to her that the reason is that it reminds you too much of the size and shape of a certain doctor's tool. But on the other hand you suspect she might have done it on purpose, she did interrogate you very thoroughly after the swamp incident. At least she didn't ask you to draw a diagram.

You take another gulp of water. Not the smartest direction of thoughts right now, Wren. The server brings his glass of red wine, and he takes a sip. Oh, you won't survive this lunch. Everything he does looks like bloody porn to you...

He sighs. "Has Maya offered you to present at the Riverdell?" You freeze with your glass near your lips. "Pardon?" "Has Maya pushed the presentation in the Riverdell Institute onto you?"

To lie or not to lie, that is the fucking question. On one hand, he is currently affiliated with the Yamazaki Foundation and is part of the project. He has every right to ask. Also, you feel that in the weird aggravation that is your relationships he harbours some sort of protectiveness towards you. On the other hand, do you want him to meddle in your life? You suspect, whatever trouble with Scaufield and Thrundon you seem to run into has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. They are probably under a false impression that you are his protege. Or a doxy. What did the blond wanker say, "Maya told me how territorial you get about your little ginger here." He also called you Thorington's "pet".

"Yes, Dr. Scaufield offered me the opportunity to present in the Institute." His jaw muscles tense. "You need to find an excuse and arrange someone else to go." "Pardon?" Can he be more autocratic? "The whole point of this trip will be to embarrass you in front of Elwig and show the weakness of the project. Sending a student where a head of a research section should go is an obvious attempt to discredit the project. And humiliate you at the same time."

Your first reaction is to yell that he doesn't know anything, obviously you wouldn't let the lab down, that you can present it better than any head of a section, but maybe, just a little bit you smartened up in the last few months. You ponder what he said. He is keeping his eyes on you, waiting.

"Why would she do that?" He gives you a strange little smile. "Bravo, Miss Leary, your self-control has improved vastly since we met." Arrogant prick. "Financially, I suspect it has something to do with Thrundon wanting to take over the project. Yamazaki need Elwig's support. On the personal level, because she hates you."

"Why? What have I done to her?" He licks his lips and looks almost guilty. "It might be my fault. I was reckless enough to show her that I care..." he stumbles, "about what happens to you." "What?" "Maya and I go way back, and she would like nothing more in this life as to take everything away from me. A cold vengefulness of a woman, I'm afraid."

He doesn't need to explain. The words unspoken words "the vengefulness of a rejected woman" are floating above your table.


	13. Chapter 13

"You said she was gay!" He hikes up his brows. "Why do you automatically assume that it is the hatred of a former paramour?" Remember how you decided to be reasonable, listen like a good girl and not to overreact? Fuck this plan. "Because whatever porky you are trying to sell me here, she is definitely manifesting the behaviour of a crazy ex. She learnt what coffee I drink!" He is smiling in disbelief. "What?" "She brought me coffee the other day. With precisely the four creams and the six sugars I put in it."

He shakes his head. "How is your central nervous system still functional, Wren?" Oh, don't give me that smart ass attitude! You bet in his medschool years he lived on caffeine and whatever they crazy kids took those days. "It is the proportion perfected over years. The large coffee from the coffee shop in the Arts library, four creams, six sugars. Keeps you going for six and a half hours without any sleep during the previous night." "Exactly how often do you skip goodnight sleep, Miss Leary?" Is his voice lower or you are overtired? Probably the latter. "I'm in the Yamazaki project. I do not remember what sleep is." He chuckles.

The server brings your soupe au pistou and his bouillabaisse. It smells amazing, but the food is not at the top of your list of priorities right now. "So to what do I owe Maya's fatal attraction spazzing?" He smiles into his spoon. "What? She does look a lot like Glenn Close!" "I believe you can feel pretty safe taking a bath, Miss Leary. But just to be on the safe side, do you own a pet rabbit?" You both grin, and you are surprised to notice the shift in the dynamics between you too. Where does this come from?

There is bowl of olives in the middle of the table. You reach for one with a fork, while he just shamelessly stretches his hand towards them. It seems, you both are aiming for the same one. Common, it is so glossy and plump! You slightly jab his finger with the fork. He gives out a fake yelp. "Goodness, you are a delinquent indeed!" You laugh, "I am not good at sharing, Dr. Thorington." He snatches the olive and pops it in his mouth. "Neither am I, Miss Leary," his voice is definitely lower than before.

Two things. You don't feel tongue-tied and uncomfortable any more, and let's face it he is openly flirting. Second thing, he is doing it to distract you from your previous conversation. Well, quid pro quo then. You delicately pick up a spoonful of your soup and slowly envelop your lips around the utensil. You slowly pull it out, and his eyes are predictably on your mouth.

"So, sex or money?" He blinks and looks at you questioningly. "You and Maya. What was it? And Threndon for that matter. Money? Or sex?" You suggestively cock a brow. He chuckles. "I do not like blonds, Miss Leary." You are studying him. He sighs. "Both. And neither. We were close friends at uni, it got ugly. Now we are just trying to bugger up each other in every possible way." Why, for the life of you, him using even mild swearing turns you on? Your childhood psychopathologist would probably have a lot to say about it.

"And how exactly do I fit into this mess?" "When your proposal was discussed, I was asked for my opinion on your moral profile. Since you were often seen in the company of my kin." Oh no, the thought of Phil makes you grab your glass and hide behind it. "I claimed that it would be a conflict of interest for me to comment on it since you were romantically involved with my nephew, but assured the committee that I hold you in the highest regard," he picks up his glass as well and takes a sip. Oh shite. Not going there, not thinking in what regard he holds you now. "I suppose something in what and how I said told Maya that I care… cared about your well-being." Does he realize that this is the second time he stumbles over this phrase?

Wait… "I was not involved with Phil at that time." He looks at you surprised. "You were. You were staying at the mansion and came with him to the swamp trip." "No, I was not. Why would I then?.." Blood rushes to your cheeks and you stare down into your plate. The silence stretches. "I'm sorry, I had a wrong impression," his tone is flat.

He thought you were Phil's girlfriend, when you shagged in his tent. He thought you jumped him in the office being Phil's girlfriend. He thought you were a slut. You raise your hand and beckon your server. "I'll have a glass of red wine, please." Tomorrow you'll be sick but this hangover will be so worth it. It will be a blessing, never was a hangover more welcome in the history of humanity and felt better. It is hard to obsess over Dr. Dark and Sexy despising you when you are vomiting.

You finally look at him. He is staring, his face unreadable. The blue eyes are dark, lips are pressed together in a harsh line. You take another sip. The glass is actually empty. You put it down with a thud. "I started dating Phil after I received the Yamazaki grant. After I said no to your second offer."

Something changes in his eyes, and he gets up. He throws some cash on the table and stretches his hand towards you. You give him yours, and he pulls you up. Then he strides out of the cafe and into the lobby of the hotel. You are running after him, his steps so much longer than yours. Sometimes it feels that you are levitating a bit between the steps, since he is dragging you after him so fast.

He rushes to the stairs going up to the floors of the hotel, and for a second you don't understand. Then he pulls a magnetic key from his pocket, and it dawns on you. He is running up the stairs, and you are following.

**XXX**

For a second it seems that his hands are shaking, he can't get the card into the slot, but then the door bursts open, and he pulls you in. The light goes up, the door closes behind you. He turns around and kisses you. He presses you into the door, and his hands cup your face. Something explodes in your head, and you push your fingers into his hair.

He tastes like red wine. He tastes better than anything in your life. He tastes like life itself. And every cell in your body rejoices. An almost painful shiver runs through your core, electrical current is coursing through your spine, and your hands are shaking for certain. He is forceful, demanding, and you yield, drop your head back, let him domineer.

He suddenly slows down, switching to tender kisses, and his thumbs are stroking your jaw. His hands are so large that when his long fingers slide on your nape, the thumbs are caressing your cheeks all the way up to the cheekbones. He has a peculiar manner of kissing. He is caressing your upper lip, while most men go for the bottom one. The corners of his lips pressed in almost a smile, tender caresses of his tongue on your lips almost demure. You peek. His eyes are closed, fluffy black lashes, and little crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Damn you, Wren, you are so in love with him!

**A/N: In case you were wondering Dr. Dark and Sexy will get his share of spanking (purely figuratively speaking;) for, as he thought, sleeping with a girl who was spoken for! Wanker.**


	14. Chapter 14

And then it hits you. The lunch, the hotel room, the condom in the back pocket. What the fuck are you doing, Wren?! You freeze and stare at the Durex in your hand. For a second he doesn't notice that you are not moving and continues kissing your throat, but then he stops and looks into your eyes. "Wren?.." "Put me down."

He is breathing heavily but listens and lowers you on the floor. You sway but stay upright. "I need to..." What were you even going to say? Breathing is hard, the pain in your chest is tearing you apart. You step away from him and try to pick up your handbag from the floor. "Wren, what is wrong? Wren?" Don't open, don't open, you just cannot pick up whatever rolls out of it. But it is zipped and you finally manage to grab the handle. "Wren, what the fuck are you doing?" His voice is low and raspy. Exactly the question you've been asking yourself. "I'm leaving." "No!" he slams his palm into the wall. You don't even flinch. "Not until you explain what is going on."

You lift your eyes at his, they are wide open, vulnerable, confused. And that's when you hit him. This time it isn't a romantic slap, it is a full scale punch. His head jerks back, and he bares his teeth. "Do not ever talk to me again." For a second you think he will let you leave. He is rooted to the place, pupils so large that you can hardly see the blue.

And then he grabs your shoulders and shakes you. "You are not leaving!" He is yelling into your face. "Let me go!" You are screaming back. Maybe someone will call the police. He snarls, and it is terrifying. He is towering over you, and you panic. You are in a locked room with a man who is twice as large as you, and it is no longer the man you had lunch and joked about _Fatal Attraction _with. There is nothing left from the gentleman who wanted to open a car door for you. You shrink from the animalistic gnarl and the livid dark eyes, and whatever he sees in your face hinders him. He steps back.

"What the fuck is going on, Wren?" You are shaking. "I'm leaving. Let me go." "Not until you talk to me." "You are frightening me, let me go." "You were not scared a few seconds ago." "I am now, you can't keep me here." He exhales sharply and then all of a sudden his shoulders droop. "Wren. I'm begging you, can we please talk?" The tone is soft and gentle, and it just triggers something in you.

"No, we won't talk, you do not deserve the right to talk to me!" Now it is your turn to yell and show your teeth. "You are not allowed! You don't deserve anything! You fucked me thinking I'm with Phil, you propositioned me, and still when I refused you are still bending me!" You see red. "A lunch, a room, that is so by the book that I must seem like such a moron to you! I am fucking brainless! To fall for this! I'm pathetic, I disgust myself for doing it!" "Wrennie..." You slap him. He doesn't even shield himself.

"Don't call me that, Thea calls me that. You are not allowed. Not you!" He is standing in front of you, his arms hanging along his body, the cheek you punched and then slapped red.

"I hate you, do you hear me?! Hate you!" You are probably crying, you feel dampness and heat on your cheeks. But you don't care. "Why didn't you just fuck me when it all started? Why did you have to turn me inside out? And Phil, how did you feel about that?!"

"Wren, let me explain..." "Explain what? That you slept with me because you could, since I came to you myself, and all women are whores anyways, since you know us so well, and because you thought you have the right, as a big bad alpha?!" He closes his eyes. You know you are right about everything. "Oh, and tell me that you were protecting Phil from a lying cunt such as myself! Common, go for an honourable saviour image!" You are practically shrieking, but you so don't fucking care anymore!

You suddenly can't breath and sink on the floor. The dry heaving starts, and you hide your head between your knees. You hear the rustle of him moving. "Do not touch me..." You teeth are chattering. "Just don't…" You are hyperventilating now, you head spins. All you can see is a small patch of the carpet on the floor. "Wren, you are having a panic attack, you need to talk to me. Are you hot or cold?" You can hardly understand what he is saying. "Cold..." He moves somewhere out of your field of vision and then a comforter covers your shoulders. He sits on the floor near you without touching you.

You have had the attacks before, you know the drill. You are breathing slowly and deeply. "Wren, you are doing great," his voice is calm and even. "You just have to breath. Is there anything that helps you? Can I get you anything?" You shake your head. "It is OK, you just breath and it will pass."

A few minutes later you seem to be calm, your vision clear, and you look at him. He is sitting on the floor, leaning on the base of the bed, and his face is sad and tired. You feel suddenly sleepy, and your eyelids are heavy. The comforter is warm and soft.

"Common, Wren, you need to lie down," he is still not touching you. "Do you want me to help you?" The world is all fuzzy, and everything sways. You try to shake your head, but it is so heavy. You don't feel him picking you up and putting you on the bed.

**XXX**

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, fully clothed, and you sit up with a jerk. He is sitting in a chair by the wall, his elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. "What time is it?" God, you left the lab for lunch! "It's seven o'clock, you slept for six hours. Probably the constant sleep deprivation." Oh fuck. Has he been sitting here the whole time?

He doesn't seem to need to be asked. "I was worried you'll wake up and get scared. And I had a lot to think about," that is one hell of a lifeless chuckle. You really need to get up and leave. Where is your handbag?

"Can we talk before you leave, Wren?" His voice is emotionless, raspy. "We have nothing to discuss." "I believe we do. Would you please listen to me?" There is no begging, no emotional tension, just tiredness. "You have two minutes."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: That one is penultimate, my lovelies! Well, may be two more (I do get carried away:) and then we are done. Are you ready to say goodbye to Dr. Thorington and Miss Leary? :)**

**A/N#2: ****RagdollPrincess****, funny you said so. Jane Austen-y indeed. Because I was considering different plot developments, and then I thought he deserves a chance to try to explain himself. And I thought of **_**Persuasion**_**. I might like him too much for it all to be just about lust. A bit of touchy-feely for Thorington :)**

"When we were in uni it was always the three of us, Maya, El and I," he is sitting with his elbows on his knees, legs spread wide, long fingered hands hanging heavily. He is not looking at you. "It was a blast. The world seemed like a playground. After graduation, we stayed close. We had an interesting dynamic. Maya, low class, ambitious, ruthless, El, talented, charming, but too spoiled by his indulgent mother to reach for the stars, and me, a golden boy and a wanker. Do you recognise the pattern?" You do. He gives a low lifeless chuckle. "I know you think I'm a cold hearted bastard now, but you should have seen me then. When you are twenty five and perform your first stereotaxy, and afterwards Dr. Balinson, the father of modern neurosurgery, has awed tears on his eyes, calls you "laddie" and shakes your hand, it tends to really make you swollen-headed."

"Seven years after Graduation Maya proposed to me." He leans back at the chair and rubs his eyes with his palms. "She explained all the advantages to me. How we are going to be perfect for each other, how we will be the golden couple of the medical community. I knew she was gay but she said it was never about sex or romance. I could have any woman I wanted, but where would I find a partner like her? My oh so controlling mother was an ardent supporter of that idea. She invited Maya to our house, doted over her, they had tea in the sitting room by the fire." He gives you a pointed look. You feel like throwing up.

"I refused. My exact words were "I don't need a wedding band to choke me". She took it well. We went on just as before, but we had sex occasionally. She said she had doubts in her sexuality, that I was convenient. I didn't really care. And then she got pregnant." He is staring blankly at the ceiling.

"She planned everything well. She waited for five months to tell me. She even would not sleep with me for at least one week a month to imitate period breaks." He clenches his jaw. "And then she presented me with the news and the ultrasound tape. Have you ever heard the heart of a five month old fetus, Wren? It is rapid, almost frantic, like they are fighting for their life."

"I was furious, I was raging for hours, but that sound… I couldn't forget that sound. She was saying she didn't need anything from me, but we both knew that she already got what she wanted. I bought the ring and it was announced. She lost him four weeks later."

You feel tears running down your cheeks. Him.

"You were always around, Wren, you are hard to miss, that flaming mop of yours. On campus with Philip, in a coffee shop with them both, at breakfast at the mansion. I love my sister, but she is a fucking copy of our mother." He fists his hands and then seemingly coming back to reality he splays his fingers and stares at them. "What was I supposed to think when you crawled in my tent, Wren? That you decided to up the stakes and go for a bigger fish in the pond? Or when you were all comfy at the back seat with Philip less than a month after almost fucking me on that desk? You said I was aiming to be a fucking saviour for Philip, and maybe I was hoping to take you off his hands. But we also know that that is not all, do we not, Wren?" He shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong I doubted my assessment of you sometimes, a blind person wouldn't, but you can see how a pattern seems to emerge. Once bitten, Wren. Do you know that Philip was discussing getting his grandmother's ring out of the safe deposit?"

You blanche. You had been dating for only two weeks. "He sounded rather certain. And I saw you looking at me at the dinner. You are not very good at hiding your desires, Wren." You are shaking. "But I guess me neither." He gives another of those joyless chuckles of his. They feel like punches in your stomach. "Before trying to break my nose, my nephew had a lot to say… to yell into my face. Among other things how I've been looking at you like a piece of meat through that evening. And there I thought I was discreet."

He closes his eyes for a second and then exhales sharply. "That was a bit longer than two minutes but I hope you will forgive me. I understand I was wrong, but I did have my reasons. And today..." He rubs his face again. "Damn it, Wren, was I hoping to sleep with you today? Yes, I was. The thought seems to always be at the back of my mind." The smirk looks like a grimace. "I would have preceded it with yet another of my fucking speeches and terms and conditions discussions. But then you go and surprise me again…" He looks at you pretty much for the first time since he started talking. His eyes are pained. "I am wrong about you every single time. There is something about you that just turns off half of my brain. And I'm sorry I frightened you. I truly am."

The pause stretches. He exhales and gets up. "The room is paid for the next three days. You can stay for as long as you want."

"What about the Rivendell?" You are surprised at yourself. Wow, either you are growing as a person, or he was right in his initial assessment of you and you are a cold calculative bitch. He just poured his soul to you, and you care about the presentation. Or maybe that is a suppression defence mechanism.

He was picking up his jacket from the back of the chair and stops. "I suggest you come up with a good excuse why you cannot go. Let her set someone else up. I was planning to go to Elwig that weekend anyways. Our meeting is long overdue." He puts the jacket on. "He hates my guts. As much as Dr. Saint Elwig can hate anyone. We were in the same year in the medschool but he was too moral to associate with us bastards. He has this surreal glow around him, have you noticed? And I seduced his girlfriend during the second year." He is looking at you as if taunting you with his immorality, asking you to judge him.

You don't. You are too tired and you are the last person to talk. "Let me deal with it and have some rest, Wren. You are obviously overworking yourself."

He picks up his keys from a dresser. "Goodbye, Wren." You nod. And then you are alone in the room. You curl up in a ball under the comforter. You need to think.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Oh, I can't finish this in two chapters? :) Watch me :) **

**A/N#2: The first part is a bow to you, ****RagdollPrincess ****:) Thank you for our conversations. **

**A/N#3: Of course there will be a sequel. They do need to end up together after all. How is "Cut Through the Heart" for a title? :)**

Three days before the Riverdell presentation, you come home and the first thing you see is Thea's coat in a crumpled pile on the floor of the hall. You heart skips a beat. Thea loves her clothes. Thea worships clothes, she adores them. She would never treat her glorious cream cashmere baby that way. "Thea!" You sound panicked and rush inside and find her coiled in her bed. "Thea, what happened?"

You kneel in front of her, her face peeking from under the duvet is red and the eyes are puffy. "He dumped me..." Oh, no, you pull her into yourself. She is hiding her face in your neck. "Jimmy dumped me… He said that I was a dirty whore and left..." She is crying, her body convulsing.

Since you met at the playground when both of you were five, you have seen Thea cry about ten times. At her aunt's funeral, at her brother's wedding, over a pair of destroyed shoes. The shoes were her mother's who died before you met Thea. Thea doesn't cry, she processes and moves on. While you rave and destroy everything around you, Thea rejoices because life is wonderful and full of light and pleasures.

More so, Thea has never cried over a guy before. You are rubbing her back and murmur comforting nonsense to her. "It's been seven months, how can he do that to me after seven months?.." You are not going to ask. "I haven't cheated, I was a perfect girlfriend… And then we ran into this fat arsehole Bourk and he was dirty talking, and Jimmy just stood there… We had a fight and he left…" She is crying harder. "I don't understand, he knew who I am before… I have nothing to be ashamed of!.." "No, Thea, you don't, don't you dare doubting yourself!" She sobs. "I need a drink."

You look at the giant hazel eyes of your best friend and shake your head. "No, Thea, you don't. What we need is talk and have tea and get through this." She blinks and stares at you. "When did you grow up, Wren?" You smile to her and stroke her hair. "I haven't. I just learnt that we need to use our brain more when it comes to our heart." Thea whistles. "That was deep, Wren. And a complete poppycock." You laugh, "Yeah... But you still are not getting any booze."

**XXX**

You arrive to Sheraton with a sleepy and grumpy Thea in tow. She can never sleep on the bus and immediately collapses into a deep slumber as soon as you get the keys to the room. You tuck her in and go downstairs to have some food.

It is still breakfast buffet time, and you are meditating over the choice between eggs and toast, when you feel a strange shiver running through your spine. Before you turn, you know who is standing near you.

He looks good. All freshly ironed shirt and the exotic ponytail. He is frozen with a plate hanging in his hand and you think that it is going to smash on the floor any second. "Wren?" You give him a polite smile. God, he is sexy with his half open lips and widened eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" And the spell is gone.

"I'm pondering my breakfast options." He places the plate on the counter with a thud. He is so going to grab your arm and drag you out of the restaurant and scold you like a little girl in some shadowy corner of the lobby. And you are so fucking tired of this shite. You pick up a grape from the nearest plate and pop it into your mouth. "And you, John? What are you doing here?" You sarcastic tone stops him in his tracks.

"I did not expect to see you here, Miss Leary." He is boiling. "I thought..." "You thought you will tell me to stay home and I will be a good obedient girl and sit quietly on my spot." The nostril flare. "I was protecting you," he is hissing. Always aware of the surroundings and decorum, aren't we, John? Always in control. Tosser. "Which no one asked you to." Wow, you are so calm right now. How is this happening?

Oh the empowerment! Here is another spoonful of the same bitter drink for you, John. "I'm sorry, I was rash again." Your tone is mollifying and he stares at you suspiciously. "And I'm sorry, it was very rude of me. I haven't thanked you for your advice and information. Thank you for enlightening me regarding the project and the presentation. Now I will decide what to do with it." Another polite smile. "Have a nice breakfast!" You put your plate down and walk out of the restaurant. Room service it is.

**XXX**

Dr. Hugo Elwig is a powerful figure. Tall, with heavy angled brows over steely eyes and a low expressive voice. His large hand envelops yours and he gives you a small ceremonial bow. Should you courtsey? "Miss Leary, it's an honour having you here with us. Your last year publication on the microcephaly was indeed very innovative." "Thank you, Dr. Elwig, it is indeed a high praise coming from you."

"I have to admit I'm surprised Dr. Claufield has sent you to present though..." Yep, give me the "students are not qualified for interinstitutional symposium presentations" speech. "I would assume she would prefer to come here herself, since she is such a big fan of our spa." What now?

You look at him. The mesmerizing eyes are laughing. "The hotel you are staying in is a part of the research center, and their spa is famous around the country. I hope your travel bursary covers the treatment there."

It actually does. That is where Thea is right now, enjoying hot stone massage and cleansing teas. While you are heading to the place of your impending execution. Dr. Elwig has met you in the lobby of their main research facility and is accompanying you to the amphitheater.

"To be honest, Dr. Elwig, I was surprised myself. Considering how important your involvement and support are for the Yamazaki Foundation, I would assume they would send the best to charm you into working with us", he tilts his head and gives you a curious look. "But apparently I possess all the necessary qualities to see it done," you give him a direct and confident smile. One of the brows cocks up.

"You might actually do, Miss Leary," he scans your face. "But you will have to work twice as hard now that our board is in such a foul mood this morning. We were dragged into a meeting with your colleague Dr. Thorington before any of us had a chance to have their first coffee. The man doesn't seem to sleep. Which explains the immense medical successes but also the abdominal flaws in character."

"Talent develops in quiet places, character in the full current of human life, Dr. Elwig. Without Dr. Thorington's persistence and vehemence his scientific successes wouldn't matter. The medical community these days would be ten years behind in its development."

"Goethe, Miss Leary? You are indeed an asset for the Yamazaki Project." "Just as Dr. Thorington's research and the tests we are conducting in our lab. In which I will surely convince you in the nearest fifty minutes." He gives you another weird little bow of his and opens the door to the amphitheater in front of you.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I squeezed Elrond's quote in here. Dr. Elwig (it's Elrond's father's name actually, yes, I'm that much of LoTR and Hobbit geek:) is him, did anyone catch that? :) **

**A/N#2: That is the last chapter of this story! Yay! It is all thanks to all of you! All the reviews and messages! Thank you! Oh, I'm tearing up ^_^**

**A/N#3: Thea, Phil and Killian will be much happier in the next story, I promise. The Durinson brothers needed some time away from Wren, and she from them. And Thea… I'm actually not sure yet. I am open to your suggestions. **

**A/N#4: The prompts are more welcome than ever! :) **

The applause doesn't stop for about ten minutes. You bow again and again until Dr. Elwig finally comes to your rescue and shushes his colleagues. "I think at this stage Dr. Leary already understood your unanimous admiration and support towards her proposal, and I think we can skip voting," you hopefully discreetly breathe out in relief. And the slip of his tongue wasn't that unpleasant. Dr. Leary, what a nice ring to it! "Probably we should continue fawning over Dr. Leary during the reception at six," the crowd cheers, "And right now I'm stealing our guest for lunch and abundant complimenting." You smile to him and loop your arm through his.

"What cuisine, Miss Leary?" Yikes, this deja-vu was brutal. "Italian would be lovely, and it is Wren, Dr. Elwig."

**XXX**

The mushroom ravioli are wonderful, and you are really enjoying the conversation. Dr. Elwig has this manner of speaking that you always found endlessly annoying in others but it somehow works for him. He always sounds as if he is making fun of you, but on the other hand his humour is so respectful and so often self-deprecating that you can't help but like him. At this moment you almost spit your water when he is telling you how he walked on his daughter and her suitor, his word, not yours, in a compromising position. You have seen her photos, she is one of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Luscious black waves and unbelievable blue eyes. She also looks like a very fair and kind person. Ah, envy is a bitch!

"No father should ever see this, Wren, you have to believe me," you are coughing and laughing. "And I am a medical scientist, bodies do not frighten me." You are pressing a napkin to your lips. "He is a nice chap and I would never say anything, but I was just hoping for something different," he is momentarily serious. "I'm afraid, Dr. Elwig, no one will be good enough," you smile to him. "Yes, but twenty year difference worries a father, Wren. Wouldn't your father mind you dating a man so significantly older than you?" "Hard to tell, Dr. Elwig, I have never known him. But I can see how it can be troublesome for you. The difference in life experience, the potentiality of her becoming too dependant on him, dissolving in him, not being enough for him, her own growth hindered by his dominance..." You realize what you are saying and bite your tongue.

He is giving you a thoughtful long stare. "You seem to have given it a lot of thought, Wren." No shit, Sherlock. "And thank you for reassuring me, I feel so much better now," he is smiling again. "Always welcome," you bite your lip and snicker, "If you ever lack a cheerful outlook at life, feel free to contact me." He is laughing. "And if you are ever in a search for a new project to participate in, feel free to contact me." Did he just say what you think he said?

"I still haven't experienced you spa facilities, Dr. Elwig. After them I might be persuaded to come back here some time soon." "You are very welcome to stay here now, if that is your wish," he smiles humorously but you get the message. "Thank you."

**XXX**

When Thea comes back into your room, she finds you jumping on the bed in your underwear with Lady Gaga blaring full scale. Alright, it is your iPod after all.

"_I'm beautiful in my way, 'Cause God makes no mistakes, I'm on the right track, baby, __I was born this way!_"

She squeaks in delight and joins you. Rhythm pumps through your blood, adrenaline throbbing in your temples, and life is glorious!

"_A different lover is not a sin, Believe capital H-I-M (Hey hey hey), I love my life, I love this record, and Mi amore vole fe yah!_"

You are both singing at the top of your lungs, your arms above your heads, hips swaying, faces lifted to the ceiling.

The song ends and you fall on the bed laughing and swinging your feet in the air. You are both breathing heavily and Thea turns her face to you, "Do I gather the presentation went well?" You don't answer, a giant triumphant grin on your face. "You are a goddess, Wren, finally you are!" You hug her and feel tears in your eyes. "I love you, Thea."

"OK, don't get all mushy on me," Thea's voice is suspiciously choked too. You sit up and wipe your eyes. "Right," you clear your throat. "Would you do me the honour and accompany me shopping, lady Thea? I have a reception at six and a wild desire to spend a shitload of money. I'll buy and wear anything you suggest". She squeaks and throw her arms around your neck. "I'll make a queen out of you, Wren!" "Knock yourself out."

**XXX**

Thea delivers. The elegant carolina blue wrap dress and a pair of new pumps make you feel so good! OK, maybe a wee bit of girly stuff is not that bad. You give up your glasses for the evening and let Thea put some makeup on. You are predicting you have a few hours before your poor eyes start tearing and you are overwhelmed with desire to claw the contacts from over your irises.

You twirl before the mirror, and Thea claps. "The Queen of Biochem!" You lift your finger pointedly and smugly, "Queen Regnant! None of that manky testerone in my Kingdom!" "You show them, Wren!"

**XXX**

Showing them becomes a problem when you walk into the lift and stare into John's eyes. You have to give him the credit, his eyes never leave your face. There are more people in the elevator and he politely nods, "Miss Leary." The reception is on the ground floor of the hotel so you don't have anything to conceal your admittedly titillating outfit.

"Dr. Thorington," he is dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. There is a jacket in his hand. He is definitely not going to the reception. "Congratulations on your success, Wren. You deserve every second of it." His voice is warm. "Thank you."

It's the ground floor and everyone leaves the lift. You are turning to go to the reception hall when his soft voice stops you, "Wren." You turn around and look in his eyes. "I have a very unpleasant feeling that it becomes repetitive, but I wanted to say I'm sorry. I have misjudged you again. I seem to do only that," he actually looks uncomfortable. Good. "You do, don't you?" "Way to reassure a guy, Wren," he grumbles and looks adorably grumpy. Did you just use the words "adorably grumpy" in your head?!

"You will recover, Dr. Thorington. Your unwavering self-assurance and narcissistic egoism will make you feel better in no time." He lowers his head and you see a smile fluttering in the corners of his lips. "I deserved that too." "You did."

He tilts his head and looks at you. Then he stretches his hand towards you. That is a very bad idea. Physical contact with him tends to do things to you, Wren. That was the old Wren, this Queen of Biochem can reign some stupid hormones. You place your fingers in his hand. Bugger.

He squeezes your fingers. "Will you have dinner with me, Wren?" "No." Hah! He is smiling like a big cat. "Let me rephrase it," he lowers his head, lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, "Will you go on a date with me, Wren?" Oh, poop.


End file.
